


Some Fun

by cestlestialbeings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s02e14 Born Under a Bad Sign, F/M, POV Jo Harvelle, Possessed Sam Winchester, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlestialbeings/pseuds/cestlestialbeings
Summary: Meg's got Sam as a meat suit for the week. She's using Jo as bait, but she can have some fun with her while they wait for Dean.
Relationships: Jo Harvelle/Meg Masters/Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 11





	Some Fun

_What the hell is happening?_ Jo thinks. Sam had found her at the bar she was working at in Minnesota, which was already creepy enough. He’d reassured her that he’s not like his dad, told her in the most offensive way that she had no chance with Dean, and now he’s talking about how much he cares about her?

She looks down at where his hand is resting on hers. Something’s wrong. This doesn’t seem like the Sam she remembers working with, not at all, though she supposes she never really knew him that well to begin with. She tries to pull her hand away from his, but he holds it tight.

“I can be more to you, Jo.”

Her skin crawls. Despite what he’s saying, his eyes are cold. She speaks clear and concise. “Maybe you should leave.”

His eyes focus intently on hers for a few moments, his mouth curled up in an almost cruel smile. “Okay,” he says, a harsh whisper, and he shoves her hand away.

He stands and walks away, and she takes a breath of relief. She rests her hands on the counter, leaning against it as she calms herself.

There’s a sudden presence behind her and rough hands grab her arms, spinning her around to face him and pressing her back against the bar. A shiver runs down her spine when she sees the look on Sam’s face—vicious and twisted and without the slightest bit of empathy. Is this a shapeshifter, or a mind control thing, or… or is this just a part of Sam that he had kept hidden in front of Dean?

He grabs at her arms.

“Sam, get off me! Sam!” she says, shoving at him. He’s six feet and five inches of solid muscle and as hard as she shoves, he doesn’t move an inch. “Get off me! Let go!”

He doesn’t listen, runs a hand through her hair and pulls her head back to expose her neck. His lips brush lightly against her skin as she grabs a glass bottle from the bar next to her. She swings at his head but he reacts quickly and grabs her wrist. “Jo, Jo, Jo,” he says, his voice sickly sweet. He slams her hand down on the bar, shattering the bottle. No, that was her only chance—she has to do something else, fast—

Sam whirls her around so she’s facing the bar and uses one hand to pin her arm down in front of her, the other to hold her head firmly in place against him. “Sam, no! No! Please!” she pleads. “Please!”

He shoves her forward onto the bar, pressing his forearm down on her back to keep her in place against the counter. His other hand reaches around her to fumble open the top of her pants. She stretches her arms behind her to push against him, trying to shove him off or hit him hard enough to let go, but it doesn’t seem to affect him in the slightest.

His hand slips down the front of her underwear and his fingers slide along her fold until he finds her opening. He slips two fingers inside, stroking gently inside her. She feels a wave of nausea. This can’t be happening—

“Sam, please,” she says, her voice breaking. “Stop.”

“You’re wet,” he says. “You love this, don’t you?”

“No no no,” she pleads. “Stop.” She reaches behind herself and grabs at his wrist. His fingers slip out of her and he grasps her wrist, twisting her arm so she can’t move it. She gasps in pain.

“Behave,” he says, like he’s talking to a difficult child. He pulls down her jeans and underwear, pushing them down just past her knees. She squeezes her legs together, trying to do anything, _anything_ to stop this from happening, at least for a little longer.

“Why are you doing this?” Jo says, struggling to turn to look at Sam. She hears a belt click and a zipper open, and she pushes away from the counter with all her strength. Still not enough. He barely budges.

“I’m doing this because you want it,” he says. “You know you do, you don’t have to pretend. Not for me.” Sam roughly nudges her legs apart with his knee, and she feels his hard length press against her slit. He holds it against her entrance, and then pushes inside. She gasps as she stretches around him—he’s big, and she’s not nearly wet enough for this, and it burns as he starts to push in.

“Help! Please!” she yells. This bar is far from any populated area, and she knows no one will hear, but she has to try. She has to stop this.

“Shhhhh,” Sam says, and he moves a hand to cover her mouth. “Just relax. Enjoy it.” He thrusts in the rest of the way, and she lets out a muffled scream against his hand.

He starts pumping into her slowly, and tears of frustration and pain well up in her eyes. Her eyes flit around desperately, trying to find something to use against him. Who knows what he’s going to do when he’s done—she doesn’t want to end up dead. She can’t end up dead. Not like this. But there’s nothing nearby to help—the bar top is empty except for the glass shards, and her knife is out of reach, tucked into her boot.

Sam nuzzles against her neck, pressing a light kiss there. “You like this, huh?” he says, his voice hoarse and soft in her ear. “I always knew you were a slut.” He rocks in and out, slow, steady, hard. “You’ve been pining after the wrong brother, huh? This is so much better than anything he could give you. Or maybe you want some of both of us, hm?”

She starts to sob, tears streaking down her cheeks until they collide with Sam’s hand. _Please_ , she says again, but her voice is muffled and incomprehensible. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying and failing to distance herself from this horror. She keeps being pulled back by the sharp discomfort of friction and the stinging pain where one of her hands is pressing into the glass shards of the broken bottle.

His thrusts become stronger, more spaced out, and then with one final shove, he stops. His grip on her tightens painfully for a moment and she can feel him shudder behind her as he comes. He’s breathing hard, his breath hot on the back of her neck. “Good, right?” She can hear the smile in his voice. “I hope you enjoyed that. I know I did.”

She feels sick. She’s going to throw up, right here, with Sam still inside her. How had she let this happen?

Sam finally pulls out and drops his hand from her mouth. She gasps for air and starts to turn and—

Sam grabs a fistful of her hair and slams her head against the bar, and the world goes black.

* * *

Jo still slack in his arms, he tugs Jo’s pants back up and then lays her on the counter to do up her jeans again. She has to look presentable when Dean gets here. That was the point of coming here, after all, though he was glad he had let himself indulge a little. He deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> first noncon. feedback appreciated 🙏


End file.
